


Curve of His Jaw

by seamusdeanforever_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamusdeanforever_archivist/pseuds/seamusdeanforever_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Poisoned Honey</p><p>"And so into the drawing Dean poured his emotions, his hopeless anger, his terrible sadness. Unrequited love pushed his aching, graphite-blackened fingers on. And the picture before him developed, and became Seamus." Seamus/Dean slash. It's night, and Dean is drawing Seamus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curve of His Jaw

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Cora: this story was originally archived at [Seamus/Dean Forever](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Seamus/Dean_Forever), which I opened in 2002, and which was closed in 2005 when the server that hosted it was closed. To re-open the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2015. An announcement was posted to OTW media channels, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Seamus/Dean Forever archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/seamusdeanforever/profile).
> 
> ***
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Author notes: I give so much love to Val Mora! You make my stories what they are, and you are absolutely fantastic!

_The curve of his jaw._  
  
His chocolate eyes.

It was midnight or close to, and by the dim glow of the common room fire, a dark figure was drawing, his pencil scratching quietly across the page. Dean Thomas was up late- a not entirely unusual occurrence. His art had always, and would always, be more important, even, than sleep.

 _The ebony hair._  
  
The warm, dry hands. 

Across from him, Seamus Finnigan lay fast asleep on one of the large, overstuffed, crimson armchairs.

Even asleep there was still a smile on Seamus' sleep, and laughter and humor glowed from his still form. But any hint of mischief that might have traced across his smile was gone. Asleep Seamus was an angel, some ethereal figure, the dim firelight casting a halo around his shaggy blonde hair.

Asleep, Seamus was beautiful.

 

 _The way he laughs._  
  
The way my heart pounds. 

And the picture unfolding on the page in front of Dean was the mirror image of the boy across from him.

 _The way he makes me ache._  
  
The flutter in my stomach. 

He hadn't originally intended for the picture to turn into his best friend, but with Seamus lying across from him, his pencil had taken on a life of its own.

_The way we fight._

And as the drawing progressed, turning into Seamus, Dean found himself focussing in on every little detail, the minor imperfections indistinguishable from the minute good qualities, each adding-- _something_ to the boy in front of him. As each one, in turn, revealed itself, Dean found himself loving Seamus still more.

_The way we laugh._

Though, and his heart clenched at the thought, Seamus would never reciprocate his feelings. Seamus had Lavender. Seamus was his friend. Seamus was _straight_. There were a million and one reasons why Seamus wouldn't love him.

There were a million and one reasons why _he_ shouldn't love _Seamus_.

_The way I need much more._

And so into the drawing Dean poured his emotions, his hopeless anger, his terrible sadness. Unrequited love pushed his aching, graphite-blackened fingers on. And the picture before him developed, and became Seamus.

_The times we touch._

As the darkness deepened, and the fire flickered and dimmed. Dean found himself moving further forward, until he was kneeling, the carpet chafing his knees, his face- his lips- aligned with Seamus'.

_The way I shake._

He was close- so close!- to the face, that he loved. It was exhilarating, and frightening, and he felt like he was falling and couldn't catch himself.

_How he asks me for help..._

And without pausing to think- he kissed Seamus.

_When he saves me._

Dean saw stars, and fireworks, and felt alive as he had never been before. It was anxious, and chaste, and breathy, and perfect. And Dean pulled away, looking back only once as he dashed up the stairs to the dorms, afraid that, at any moment, Seamus would open his eyes.

_The secret that he couldn't hide_

In the common room, a slow, beaming smile spread across Seamus' face.


End file.
